


Marks

by uzumagay



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philkas Week Day 2: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, basically when you touch your soulmate skin to skin you get their name on you somewhere, mentions of lukas' mom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9174841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uzumagay/pseuds/uzumagay
Summary: Lukas remembers his mother’s soulmate mark, even if he doesn’t remember her face very well.Philkas Week Day 2: Soulmates





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello,,,,,  
> this was going to be short but 1500 words in i realized No It's Not. i have a whole thing planned out for this au so i hope you like it

Lukas remembers his mother’s soulmate mark, even if he doesn’t remember her face very well.

It was on the inside of her wrist, elegant letters scripted  _ Bo _ across her skin, deep and dark against her pale arm. It faced toward her, as though it was for her eyes to read only, a personal reminder for herself. He remembers running his fingers over it when she held him, feeling the letters sticking out and lightly tracing them. 

It was a comfort to him to see it the mark, and to see his mother’s smile when she caught her eye on the lettering. He remembers asking,  _ mommy, when will i get mine? _ softly against her shoulder when he was too old to lay against her like that, too old to call her mommy, but she answered sweetly with,  _ whenever you’re supposed to  _ which was frustrating, but he didn’t want to push it. He knew that was the extent of what she would give, but that didn’t stop him from falling asleep against her, wondering where his mark would be, what name would be the prettiest to see every day.

Memories after that day got spotty, because it was around then when her cold wasn’t  _ just a cold _ anymore, and turned to hospital visits until visiting hours were over and kind nurses letting him sleep in bed with her a few times before there weren’t enough breath in her lungs to sing lullabies and not enough strength in her heart to keep going. 

Most of his memories come from those moments in the hospital with her. Cold-tipped fingers running over his face, hot with tears he didn’t want to let go of, blue-tinged lips whispering out words of love from behind an oxygen mask. Beeping from machines and the smell of sickly-sterile hospital gown smell replacing her flowery perfume. 

The last thing Lukas remembers about his mother, though, is staring at her wrists turned down in the casket, thinking about how she would rather have her right wrist face up so everyone could see her husband’s name one more time before she was underground. He wanted to reach out and lift her arm, peek at the lettering, but the thought of touching a dead body scared him a little bit. He could also feel his father’s eyes on him, and that scared him more. His father had the kind of presence that, even at six years old, made him scared to step out of line. 

Lukas kept his hands to himself, kept himself quiet, because he didn’t know what to say. 

* * *

Lukas doesn’t really like talking all that much, and thankfully, none of his friends really care about it. His presence is enough, apparently, and that works for him. He can stand around and smile when they say something funny, occasionally chime in a word or two when the situation calls for it, and it works. 

He’s happy it does, because if he’s honest, the thought of having to talk makes him sick to his stomach and his hands sweat. He can handle attention - he loves when people watch him ride, because fuck, man, it’s  _ savage _ \- but he can’t handle it when they expect him to say something. His throat closes and he feels like he’s about to be sick. People tell him he looks  _ anxious _ , but he brushes it off, because he’s not. He just doesn’t like to talk, so he doesn’t, until he meets Rose.

After Lukas met Rose, he felt sure of the fact that her name would come across his skin somewhere - daydreams of curvy red lettering maybe along his wrist like his mother’s was - he tried to see, grabbing her hand once expecting to feel her name get carved into him  _ somewhere _ , but there was nothing. Still though, she was patient with him and wanted to hear from him, which was odd and nerve wracking, and he doesn’t feel comfortable with it yet, but he likes how it feels when she runs his fingers through his hair, similar to how it felt when his mother did it. 

She’s pretty too, and he doesn’t mind kissing her, he guesses. He’s never too into it, which is why he doesn’t mind when she tells him she wants to wait - he’d prefer it like that. He reasons that it’s just different with a soulmate, because Tommy talks about Tracy like he would die for her happiness, and Lukas doesn’t know if he’d do that - Lukas doesn’t know if he’ll even get a soulmate. He’s not sure how he feels at the thought. 

 

It’s not uncommon for Lukas to feel sick at school, and it’s become a fact he’s come to accept. Feel sick in the morning, get through school, go home - it’s been a pattern since he started school. He’s not sure it’s normal, but the new boy is looking pretty sick himself, so he doesn’t feel alone. 

Lukas doesn’t know his name, but his jaw is resting on his hand and he’s looking out of the window to the left. Thankfully, Lukas is on his right, so he can look over him without feeling more guilty than he already does. He traces his eyes over his jacket, the patches getting him more interested - who is that boy, and where did he come from? Something about him made Lukas feel like he was too big to be here, too traveled to be in a place like Tivoli. It makes Lukas jealous. 

He rests his head on his hand, looking over the slope of The Boy’s jawline, wondering what formula would make that on a graph so he could remember exactly. Lukas can feel his pencil eraser tapping on the desk as he looks, anxious energy that he denies running down through his hands. Lukas wonders if there’s something he could be doing, because he can’t focus on math with the teacher’s lulling voice. He looks down at his paper finally, deciding to doodle, erasing each time the face he’s drawing looks too much like The Boy.

 

Three half-drawn faces later, the bell rings, and Lukas lets out a breath. He glances around himself, relieved that Rose doesn’t share this class with him, and letting his eyes linger on The Boy for a moment. He has two bags - one, obviously, his school bag, and a smaller one that’s draped similarly over him. Lukas stares at it, getting more curious as Lukas watches him pack up. 

The people in the room are thinning out, and Lukas’ heart is beating faster at the thought of being left alone with him. Lukas doesn’t think The Boy would talk to him, but he doesn’t want to risk it, because the thought of having to say a word to him makes Lukas feel like he’s about to pass out.

* * *

The Boy’s name is Philip, and he moved from the City. He’s being fostered by the sheriff and her husband, or, that’s what he’s heard. He’s heard other stuff too, that Philip does drugs, that he got arrested for breaking into people’s houses, but Lukas doesn’t believe them. Philip looks too quiet and soft to do any of that. 

It does get him more interested than he already is, though, and that’s an issue. He tries to do homework, but he ends up wondering what Philip’s doing, where he is, why he’s here, over and over and over again. When it became an overwhelming distraction, Lukas decided it was time to take some action. So. He watched Philip.

He felt creepy doing it, following him around when he walked out of the school, trying to keep a safe distance. It felt gross, but he wasn’t really  _ stalking, _ he reasoned, if he was just trying to find the perfect moment to talk to him. He wasn’t obsessed with Philip. It wasn’t creepy. 

So he stands on the side of an isle, hearing Philip grab something off a shelf and feeling his entire body tense up. He doesn’t want Philip to leave yet, not when he’s just barely gathered the courage to speak to him--

Philip walks right by him, making Lukas’ heart seize for a moment as he watches Philip go.

“Hey,” he calls, a little too loudly, a little too boldly, and Lukas feels his hands shake as Philip turns, already looking defensive and not speaking.

“Y-You’re new here, right?” Lukas asks, hating the stutter, wishing this could all start from the beginning once more, because that was stupid to say. He tries again. “Your. Your jacket’s cool.”

Philip looks at him suspiciously for a moment, but he relaxes, and Lukas feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest with relief. 

“Thanks,” Philip says, all soft and deep like he hasn’t spoken in a while. Philip clears his throat, turning fully toward him, and Lukas feels tense. “And yeah, I’m new, I guess.”

“You guess?” Lukas smiles, because  _ what does that mean. _

“I’ve been here, like, a month,” Philip tells him, yet he still feels confused. “In the city, a month is usually over the time people call you the new kid.”

Lukas nods, unsure how he feels about that. “Well, this isn’t the city,” he says, without thought.

Philip laughs at that, and Lukas feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

“You’re right about that.”

Lukas swallows when it goes silent. They both stand for a moment, and Lukas startles, realizing he’s expected to say something. Philip isn’t his friend. Philip doesn’t know the rules, when it comes to Lukas speaking. He looks for something to mention, his eyes tracing over Philip again, noticing the bag again.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing to it, eyes flickering from the bag to his face. He watches as surprise dawns on Philip’s face, reaching down to touch it.

“Oh,” he says, hand touching the bag like he had forgotten it was there. “A camera. I take pictures.”

“That’s cool,” Lukas says, feeling excited that he knows something about Philip now, staring down at the camera bag. He stays silent for a moment, looking up with excitement. “D-Does it do video?”

“Uh, no,” Philip replies, a shy smile on his face that makes Lukas’ heart ache. “But my phone has good video, so it’s not too bad.”

“Sick,” Lukas tells him, feeling like someone else was controlling his mouth at this point. “Y-Y’know, I compete in motocross, a-and I need to make videos for sponsors…” he pauses for a moment. “M-Maybe you’d want to shoot for me sometime?”

The way Philip brightened up at the words made Lukas suck in a breath, his smile making Lukas more nervous than before. Philip nods, and Lukas nods back, swallowing down his nervousness as he takes out his phone, handing it to Philip and having him put his number in. They part ways, Lukas feeling like his heart is about to beat out of his chest, but proud. He hasn’t seen Philip’s skill with a camera, but he has a feeling that even if the footage is bad, he could make it work. He trusts Philip, more than he probably should, but it doesn't matter.

He sends a quick message to Philip, letting him know who it was, and even the small action makes him nervous. Philip sends back a quick  _ hey, lukas _ back, and Lukas smiles at it, pocketing the phone and getting on his bike, going home with his head clouded with thoughts of winning competitions with Philip on the sidelines, cheering for him.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments bc it makes me very happy and talk 2 me @ ianapologist.tumblr.com


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